In a societal world of personal passions, my greatest talent some call indulgence lies within the pure extraordinary art of capturing. Not in an inhumane sense, where I trap insects in jars and stick them to my wall; more perhaps in a Ripley's Believe It Or Not manner. Marcus. My name is Marcus, whilst I yearn and mourn for a name with a collective edge, I make up for it. While my peculiar eye for the world. As one who devouts my essence of teenage misery into comics, I dream of owning my prized collection, yet it dwells a mere three flights of stairs up and three doors to the left. A barely modest room filled with an endless frantic collection of comics, figurines, and an array of first edition video games along with the only videogame player within the complex. The only hated belonging of that room would be the one living in it: Badger.

Not only did I despise and scrutinize how he took everything for granted; but I also hated his messiness and his stench, I loathed him. He was the embodiment of Augustice Gloop from the 2005 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory where all the grannies and grandpas share a bed. however, he had one thing I wanted more than my own two hands. The unwanted acquaintance known as Badher was the absolute connoisseur of collecting; the only loophole to even be able to hold one of his prized comics was through a trade, a trade not in a shady guy with a giant waistcoat in the middle of summer type trade, more a trinket trade. I yearned for the vintage 1975 Stan Lee-written comic edition 6. His room was the Altar to this. A concealed box with his private quarters holds images, figures of the world's questions desire nothing I truly cared for, but it was something I could at least capture: A picture so head-turning, so stomach churning he would have to lend me to copy.

I sit in Badger's collection frenzied room accompanied by Morton, a Ginger boy rather beef-like. The two morons gaze at their box of a TV only wishing someone with brain capacity other than these two would get to watch something on it. Badger sits on the floor twiddling his thumbs on the controller while Morton googles at Badger's TV; this is the perfect time to show him my findings as we sit watching him play his video games only dreaming of having a turn.

"Hey. Badger-"

Badger fiddles with the controller in a heat of concentration.

"yeah, hey.. um, one sec."

The dimly lit glow of the room consumes us as Badger's fingers swivel across the buttons on the controller. His tongue slithers out in a heat of concentration. The echoing sounds of clicking buttons and toggles fill the ambient room, as he navigates his character within the game with immense speed although he comes out not victorious as the game slips out of his grasp.

"shit."

Badger looks slightly annoyed and rolls himself onto his back looking up towards the ceiling.

"I got some pictures. I took them near the park and saw some strange stuff."

He jolts up ready to look at my newfound treasures, whilst Morton, on the other hand, huffs.

"yeah right, you always claim you have stuff, and then it's just a load of shit!"

"shut up!"

"you want me to be silent cause you know I'm right Marcus, that's all you got is that stupid camera I'm telling you, man-"

"All you ever have is food, but I never comment on that."

Morten squints his eyes glaring with slight annoyance, whilst Badger erupts into laughter approvingly.

"Ha, get it Morton 'cause you're fat, good one Marcus."

"yeah shut up you guys aren't even really friends you both just have this weird exchange. Watch; just you watch good old boy Marcus is gonna eventually crack a photo so good that he'll get a stupid comic and you'll never hear from him again."

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"Shut it, Morton, you never have anything to offer other than stupid candy bars."

Morton snorts angrily.

"Well, I've got a bigger Dick that you-"

"oh yeah, that's great. What did you measure it with your finger, loser?"

Badger raises his hand to silence the room.

"Enough squirming! show me the damn Polaroids."

Cold, Frigid hands delve into the crevices and creases of my coat pocket, to retrieve three fresh polaroids. The attention from those in the room's eyes fixated and sharpened on the images, each leading to my hopeful anticipation. I secretly wait for these to be the photos oh so groundbreaking, and compelling that Badger would willingly open his beloved shoe box.

Instead, I receive a stark contrast of Horror which contorts Badger's features, as well as a hint of slight concern. Meanwhile, the irrepressible idiot Morton with his Ginger locks erupts into uncontrollable laughter. Badger's fiery eyes filled with glints of annoyance follow mine.

"Dude. A dead fucking squirrel?!"

"I-it not just a dead squirrel it's mutilated, you know. creeeepyyy, OoOoOOOoo"

Morton still proceeds to wipe a nonexistent tear from his tear duct.

"You are so fucking weird. it's not even funny."

"I-isn't that the whole point? It's a mystery dip shit-"

"oh yeah, how exactly?"

"it's L-like 'Oh how did the squirrel die? Was it an alien or a car? You don't know that?

Badger shakes his head disapprovingly, placing a single hand on my shoulder.

"The day you can bring me an image with actual wonder is the day I open that shoebox, and somehow you still fail at that."

Morton's adjudicating laugh echoes through.

"Dude"

Rage. I feel a pulse of annoyance. Not only did my household lack funds for one stupid comic, but my so-called friends weren't even willing to ever see past my Polaroids.

"You know what. Fuck you!"

My hands gather the three polaroids, placing them back into the void of my coat; Badger's hands extend into the air.

"Come on man, don't be like that."

"No- no! I-I'll bring back a photo, so out of this world and you know what you won't get it Badger I will, I'll have a crazy fucking photo at my fingertips. I'll start my stupid box with stupid conspiracies because any idiot knows that half of the shit in there isn't even real. Yeah, I said it!"

Silence. The complete bewildered and awkward silence floods and drowns the room before my feet pursue me out of the apartment.

"Marcus's got his panties in a knot!"

The rigid Morton yells.

a heavy wooden door almost broken at the latches allows me to enter my so-called home, a mother so busy she holds a flip phone in the exact gap of her shoulder and ear whilst a blabbering baby sits entertained in a sink.

"Hey. Mum."

She scratches her hair almost as if she purposely intends to make it messier. If anything, her being preoccupied did nothing to surprise me. What did surprise me was a sibling of mine in a kitchen sink. She holds the baby up as it splashes water, her drained eyes and exhausted tone tell me everything I need to know.

"Hey.. Hey umm sweetie are you trying or wanting to go out, it's just May is super messy so I put her in the sink and I'm on the phone with some lady at some stupid desk who very clearly can't understand that I live in a separate household because you're good for nothing father is-"

"Always out, I know."

I roll my eyes.

"C-can the person on the phone hear you?"

She nods rather energetically as she speaks with a super-passive-aggressive tone.

"hmm yeah.. I hope she does... No, listen. I want the other missing funds. What is he doing with it? n- no listen. He has missing child support. Look lady, I don't know if you've ever had a family but-"

Her words drown out as I retrieve my camera from the kitchen counter.

"Mum I'm leaving, going out!"

"Woah slow your roll buster, I heard about those umm w-what was it? oh those twins across the hall, their momma is so sick and y-you know you have a total eye for gifts and all that you should get something like-"

"Flowers?"

"hmm yeah.. except I mean if they start wilting by the time you get back say I-I grew them or something.."

she waves her hands almost as a way to shoo me as she continues her child support pursuit.

"No for crying out loud, I don't want to go into some Blackberry raffle I want the goddamn money, what do you mean he's in costa rica right now? Is that even legal!?-"

my own feet follow my pursuit to the rainy gloomy bus stop, the type which almost allows me to reminisce about times I had a family not preoccupied. perhaps it was all sweet dreaming. The bus jolts as it speeds along a stone-filled path as if it were in a hurry and people other than the occasional poor person with no car would take the bus. There's a small beep as the bus halts to a stop. Stop 27.